Touch Me, Then
by violetdoodlebug
Summary: "You okay?" he whispered, not stopping his movements on her spine. "Mmmhm…" she nodded, tapping her fingers against the base of his knee cap, slowly pulling them up his thigh and laying her head against his neck. "I just really like the way you touch me."


Hey y'all! This is my first time writing Riverdale AND my first time writing M. I apologize if I'm a bit rusty on really getting into the minds of these characters or if this isn't a good sex scene; I'm learning! I simply LOVE Bughead though, so I gave it a try!

I can't say that this fits anywhere in the storyline, maybe a bit after the Serpents interrupt them?

* * *

Hands. Fingertips. She feels them, the rough and calloused pads caressing every vertebrae and every valley in between. How his hand got underneath her shirt, she can't quite say; it was there and it never left, riding its way up and down, a never ending wave.

Their eyes, still lazily look at her laptop screen, as Netflix streams _Rebel Without a Cause._ After the drive in, its become _their_ movie. But in all actuality, neither of them are paying a lick of attention to it. All she knows is how close their bodies are to one another, and how his fingers are too damn close to her bra clasp and then too damn close to her waistband. Back and forth, back and forth.

Her mind slips back to the night the Serpents knocked on the door of the trailer, interrupting their most heated make-out session to date. She still replays that night in her mind, the way "I love you, Betty Cooper," rolled off his tongue. The way that tongue of his slipped in her mouth, his teeth dragging her bottom lip hungrily. His hands on her ass, halfway touching her bare skin while lifting her and carrying her to the kitchen counter. His lips down her throat, lower, lower, _lower._

She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply in the memory. She is reminded of that night too often, lying alone in her perfect pretty pink bedroom, wishing for her dark love to be at her side again.

It fucks her up that they haven't continued what they started that night. It seemed that for them, things had to be organic. No matter how much sexual tension grew between them, there had to be a catalyst. They needed a spark, one moment that pushes them over the edge.

And as she thinks about why they haven't gone any further, his fingertips slowly dive down ever so slightly into her waistband, his thumb scaping the skin and flicking the elastic. The change in pattern shocks her, and her hand twitched, jumping up, and landing above his knee.

"You okay?" he whispered, not stopping his movements on her spine.

"Mmmhm…" she nodded, tapping her fingers against the base of his knee cap, slowly pulling them up his thigh and laying her head against his neck. "I just really like the way you touch me."

If he could tease, so could she.

His heart rate quickened at her verbalization of his actions. He'd wanted to feel that creamy, forbidden skin against his again. He lowered his lips down to the top of her head, kissing her blonde hair. "I really like touching you."

His works hit her like a ton of butterflies to the stomach, building an already present desire deep within her. She turned her head up to look at him, wanting his lips in all sorts of… other places. She lifted her hand up to his face, caressed his jaw, and pulled it down against hers and whispered against them, "Touch me, then." And finally, it began.

"Yes ma'am," he huffed, colliding their lips together. At her command, he took both hands to her face, toying with loose strands of her hair that had fallen from her unusually messy ponytail.

Her iconic hairdo felt, to him, very similar to his beanie. A guard against the world. He could be completely clothed, but still somehow feel naked without his beanie. It felt like dangerous territory to release her strands from the elastic, but when his fingers grazed it, she smiled like a little kid getting their favorite type of candy on Halloween night. And so he released it, slipping her hairtie onto his wrist, combing through her soft blonde curls with his fingers, trying to keep their lips connected however possible. When it became too difficult, he lowered his hands out of her hair and covered her hands with his, locking their fingers together on top of her thighs. His jeans were becoming uncomfortable, begging for a button to be popped free, but instead, his lips restarted the journey they had made once before, kissing and nibbling down the sweet skin of her neck. And as he suckled her collarbone, she squeezed his fingers within hers, letting out a sensual, quiet moan.

"Jug," she whimpered, his forehead against hers. "I can't take this."

His heart almost sank, but he disconnected his lips from her neck. He locked eyes with her, seeking understanding. Her eyes didn't show the fear that he thought her confession implied. It wasn't that she couldn't handle them going any further, it was that she couldn't handle them _not_ going any further.

"I want you in my bed," he grumbled, almost faintly under his breath. It was the masculine, strong side of Jughead's sexuality that she remembered from their would have been first time; lifting her by the ass and slamming her against the kitchen cabinetry. Just hearing the gravel in his voice rushed her blood south. Letting go of one of her hands but holding onto the other, he stood and tugged her up off of the couch. He lead her almost halfway through the trailer's narrow hallway, until he grabbed her other hand once again, threw them over her head, and pinned her against the wall.

Her head twisted, exposing as much neck to him as she possibly could. It felt as if he was attempting to recreate their interrupted moment, but her head couldn't work through the logistics of the similarities. All she knew were hot lips and the feeling of his entire body pressed against her, pushing her into the wall that she felt like she could break if he pushed her into it hard enough.

Letting her fingers go, he reached down for the hemline of her shirt, tugging it up her body and over her head in a swift jolt. He connected his lips to hers again, readjusting his stance so that he was straddling her while keeping her pinned against the wall. With all the new skin he had access too, he began a trail of kisses across her bra cups while tucking his fingers into her jean pockets, pulling their hips together.

She threw her head back as she felt their groins connect. There were still too many fucking layers, and they were still half a hallway away from Jughead's room. Needing his bare chest against hers, she reached for his shirt, and his arms flew up almost immediately to help her get it off.

On her way back down, her fingers danced across his narrow, long chest, picking one finger to trace the v from his hip to the center of his jeans. His skin was electrified, feeling the subtle scratch of her finger nails. He didn't spend time tracing his skin when he got off on his own, and her interest with this body turned him on more than any fantasy of her his brain had conjured up before.

His beanie, now nearly sliding off of his head, was dangerously close to getting lost in the mix of shirts abandoned on the floor. The whole aura of their encounter shifted, as she lifted her nail of her torso to reach for his beanie.

She gingerly took it from his head, grabbing the fabric with both hands, and held it against her nearly bare chest. Turning once more to look at him, she walked in the direction in his room. He watched the way her ass moved in her jeans, and thinking about the way his hat was grazing her cleavage. In his room, she softly placed the hat on his dresser, where it wouldn't be lost.

Besides the fact that he would get a boner every time he put that fucking hat on his head now, knowing it had been buried in the valley between her breasts, the gesture made his heart swell. Knowing that she knew his weaknesses and that she was willing to protect him made the vulnerability they were displaying more powerful.

He quickly walked up to her and guided her down onto his bed, unclasping her bra before pushing her back against the bed.

He felt like asking for permission before removing it. It still felt so fake to him; the good girl, the perfect predicted future Mrs. Andrews wanting him to do these things to her; with her. But his hesitation alone was indication enough: "Take it off, Jug," she said. "I want you to take it all off."

Growling once again at her sultry invitation, he did as he was told. Reveling in the sight of her bare breasts for the first time, she reached up to his jeans, hoping to snag the button and the zipper. She managed the button before his lips found her left nipple, which was sexy yet shocking, and she reached for something to grip onto, which seemed to be his hips. He grunted deeply again at the contact between her nails and his skin. He moved up to wiggle out of his pesky jeans, which were too damn tight for his dick when they were just cuddling together, let alone while he was nibbling on her breasts.

His powerful movements did something to her, so he stayed in control of their actions as long as he could. He freed her of her jeans, sliding his hands over and squeezing her ass over her pink cotton panties. He pulled her against him again, grazing her nipples over his chest and feeling the two remaining layers of cloth separating two from becoming one.

She wiggled a hand between them, reaching into his boxers. At first, she was confident in her movement, but as soon as her fingertips reached his length, she paused. She had no clue what she was supposed to do, how to hold him. He felt her stop, felt her body underneath him freeze up in panic. "It's okay," he whispered. "We got this, okay Betts?"

She nodded slowly, and he pressed his lips to hers reassuringly. He sat up on his knees, and pulled down his boxer briefs.

He reached down to remove her panties, the controlling vibe of their entire encounter calming. She lifted her hips as he pulled down the thin pink garmet, tossing it across the room haphazardly to ease her tension. She giggled at him in response, not even thinking about how exposed she was to him or how little she knew what to do.

Both being horrifically inexperienced, he wondered if they should just get straight to the act itself. But something about this being Betty Cooper made him stop and want to appreciate her body more than that. He worried more than about just pleasing her body; he wanted to please her soul.

He took a leap of faith, and took control one last time. Dancing his hand down her stomach to her folds, he parted her until he found her hot clit, gently circling it. His hands were shaking, wondering if it was enough pressure, too much pressure, too fast or two slow. But damn, how she melted under him, her legs moving involuntarily as he manipulated her nerves. He slowed his circles to a stop, parting her further until he was dipping his fingers into the wetness that had accumulated at her entrance. He thought of playing there, sticking a digit in her to gage just how tight she would be, but his dick twitched at the thought and instead returned to his plan.

He took his hand to grab hers one more time, placing it over her opening. She seemed almost confused, but once her palm was dampened by her juices, he lifted his hand and guided her to his tip, showing her how to grip him. He nearly moaned her name feeling her fingers around the length of him, but took a long breath instead. He took his hand away, giving her the freedom to explore him as he had explored her, but not by forcing her to make an unguided move.

She hesitated when his hand left, but he placed it on her cheek and kissed her, encouraging her to play. Her hand, wet with her own juices, slid easily up and down him in slow, long strokes. She moved slower than he would be doing on his own, but there was something about the dainty, feminine touch that made his blood continue rushing south.

She leaned forward, pushing her head down toward his length, and placed a featherlight kiss against the tip. She was sure she that she was not going to be capable of a blowjob tonight, but the way his tip felt against her lips made her think that it would totally be a possibility in the future.

"Fuck, Betty," he said. He could feel her breathing against his tip and damn, did it do things. He was so sensitive, her hot mouth on his dick would have him cumming much too quickly and he wasn't willing to subject her to the "to swallow or not to swallow" debate tonight.

She released her fingers from his member, allowing him the freedom to sheathe himself with a condom and hover over her again. He hesitated, aligning his tip over her sweet, wet entrance.

"I'll be fine," she whispered to him. She knew it was probably gonna hurt like hell; Jug was bigger than she had expected considering his skinny frame. But she knew he'd take care of her, he'd sense what she needed and adjust to her. She trusted him to hurt her as little as he had to. "I promise, Jug."

"Stop me if it hurts, okay?"

She nodded at him, knowing full well that once he was inside her, she sure as hell wasn't going to stop him.

Ever so slowly, he entered her inch by inch, She sucked in a deep breath as her core burned. His eyes were locked against hers, watching for any sign of discomfort. She felt like she was being ripped from the inside out.

She was tight, so tight that his brain was having trouble remembering what his name was or where he was or anything other than Betty. He didn't move for a second, hoping the pain that he could see in her eyes wasn't as bad as he feared it was.

"Juggie, you can't stop," she said, a tear prickling the corner of her eye.

"I don't want to hurt you, Betts."

"It'll get better, keep going."

He pulled out of her slowly, feeling every ridge within her walls. She bit her lip as he angled back into her, still at a snail's pace. He did this two more times, and then finally, a sweet moan escaped her lips.

"Fuck," she muttered. He tried adding a little speed to his thrusts, and by damn if she didn't respond. Instead of clinging to the sheets, her hands were clinging to his back, asking for more. "Jug, go."

Connecting his lips to her neck again, he let a finger wander to her clit to circle it again, her hips bucking up to meet his. An unintelligible word graced her lips as she moved, almost as if she was trying to ride him.

The friction was too much, too good, and he knew he was done in. He sped up his work on her clit, hoping to get her there too. He wasn't sure if she completely came or not, but she whimpered and clenched around him, coaxing his orgasm along with her.

Exhausted, he fell gingerly against her chest, their labored breathing the only sound in the room. He gradually slipped out of her, rolled over and tossed his condom and wiping down with a tissue. He turned back over to her, looking to meet her eyes, but they were distant.

He covered them with the comforter, not wanting to shy away from her but also not wanting to push himself on her. "You feeling okay?" he asked, worried.

"More than okay. I was just thinking about this and us and even in our madness of not knowing anything going on in Riverdale, we know each other. We can figure out each other."

And with that, he pulled her to his side, wrapping his arms around her. He slipped his hands into her hair, collecting it and securing it with her hairtie that he saved on his wrist. It wasn't as clean and crisp as she would have done on her own, but maybe someday she'd teach him. "There's no one I'd rather figure out, Betty Cooper."


End file.
